


ungodly hour

by lovetheory



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Devil x Priest AU, M/M, Miya Atsumu is a hot priest, Sacrilege, the sexual tension between a priest and his demon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26676859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheory/pseuds/lovetheory
Summary: How is it that a demon can make such a loving gesture? Atsumu thinks, for a second, that this must be how it feels like to be held by God. To have your desire known and accepted, to have it understood and cared for. What a humane delight, one he's not fit to have.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 11
Kudos: 113





	ungodly hour

**Author's Note:**

> there has been an upsurge of devil x priest atsukita content across hqtwt, the brainchild of hq fanartist, [sae (사에)](https://twitter.com/SAElove_0604). i thought maybe i could join in on the fun. after all, catholic guilt is my favorite sub-genre of literature. i hope you enjoy this.
> 
> chapter title taken from laurel's song, scream drive faster.

**_THERE IS NO QUESTION I AM SOMEONE STARVING. THERE IS NO QUESTION I AM MAKING THIS JOURNEY TO FIND OUT WHAT THAT APPETITE IS._ **— Plainwater: Essays; Anne Carson

  
  


Some nights, Atsumu prolongs his stay in the cathedral. He likes to hear the organ come to life under his fingers in the vast, empty space. Likes knowing he breathes life into it and that it, in turn, does so unto the walls of the cathedral at an ungodly hour. He likes to breathe in tandem with the cathedral in solitude. It is never empty until the evenings. Sometimes he feels like he is within God, situated in his belly. When Atsumu was ordained four years ago, God swallowed him whole, devouring him until fragments of himself merged with the cathedral and they became one. He lives within it and it lives within him. He knows it like the back of his hand. Lost in the reminiscence, he presses the wrong key, breaking the spell, and the night comes back to him. He’s out of a trance. He rises from his seat and walks all the way to the altar in slow, measured steps. When he arrives, he caresses its cold, gold walls.

Midnight is the huff of a breath and the feel of a smile on his right ear. “You touch that thing like you would touch a virgin,” the voice says, and the weight of it bears down on Atsumu’s eyes, closing them shut. His fingers burn, they curl into his palm. He seeks air quietly, mouth only half open so that it doesn’t serve as further proof that he’s been affected. A recurring thing between him and this voice is the harsh reminder to show no sign of weakness in and because of its presence. So Atsumu doesn’t. Or, he tries to. He notices that he does a lot of that: trying, especially around it. Kita Shinsuke was something that opposed the last of his self control.

Atsumu has heard the story of Lucifer countless times. Fallen angel. Horned thing. Winged thing. It seems that he still has access to this sacred space, coming in the form of Shinsuke. Atsumu’s god is a forgiving god, but he doesn’t understand why he himself needs to suffer at the hands of the demon. As though He had intended it. As though He had put Shinsuke Himself within the cathedral, and because Atsumu is the cathedral and the cathedral is him, within Atsumu. To think this fills him with guilt. He says a little prayer, asking for forgiveness for that brief moment of selfishness, aware that Shinsuke is waiting for him in the quiet of the hall, scrutinizing the back of his head.

“Still as sensitive as ever, Father.” Shinsuke speaks, once more, through that damned smile. “I do wonder what you think of when you do that, or when you touch the organ’s keys.” The flutter of his wings fills the distance between them. In the dark, he looks terrifying, a kind of beauty. “Do you touch the cathedral often? Just like that? Do you imagine it’s God? Do you like the feel of something smooth beneath your fingers? Perhaps...” And here, he closes his hand over the back of Atsumu’s palm where the latter holds it in a fist. “...I can offer you my skin? Just for a moment.”

The last of his words makes Atsumu feel like he’s been pushed off the edge of a cliff, skin closing over his. Shinsuke’s skin isn’t like the walls of the altar or the keys of the organ. It is smooth and hot in the way only human skin can be like. Atsumu only ever touches people during prayer, when they ask to use him as a vessel for their shared god. And usually, his is the hand on top. This is different. This is a new sensation. By letting himself be held by Shinsuke, he had lost his power over him. The house of God keeps opening itself up to him and Atsumu is letting it.

When he turns his head to look at Shinsuke, he sees he's still wearing his plain white dress shirt, the one Atsumu gave him the first night he turned up. Shinsuke had been naked then, a figure that appeared gradually in the first row of the pew. Atsumu had willed himself to be kind, even in the presence of the horned, winged, demonic creature. He hadn't expected it to be Shinsuke, but a part of him felt dread permeate his lungs as the sight of his familiar head came into view. As a clairvoyant, Atsumu has had to discipline himself over the years, just to be able to communicate with these supernatural entities. Fear is not an option for this thing he can not change about him. His mother always tells him that seeking understanding must come like instinct to him. He has to open himself up to the world and beyond in order to learn it.

Demons are difficult, but dealing with them is like a game to Atsumu. And this is why he’s able to deal with Shinsuke. He trusts himself to manage the obstacles. He trusts himself not to break. God has _swallowed_ him. Atsumu _belongs_ to him. What’s done is done. He is the cathedral, and the cathedral is him. He's Nagasaki’s beloved priest, Father Miya Atsumu. But it all threatened to amount to nothing in the face of beauty. Shinsuke’s.

He was a man once. A man who had lived to see the light of day, who worshipped God in the third pew to the right of Atsumu as the latter took his place at the altar. Shinsuke was a farmer’s grandson. When he still lived, his grandmother would walk up to Atsumu with Shinsuke behind her, asking Atsumu to pray for them after Sunday worship. Atsumu would, and while his grandmother's head was bowed before Atsumu’s hand, Shinsuke's was always upright, his eyes on Atsumu, his own way of receiving blessing. There was an intimacy to the act that filled Atsumu with a far greater need to get his words right; that gaze was a heavy thing, filled with meaning. Atsumu never found out what. He never would look away, though. He wished to let Shinsuke know the depth of his mutual sincerity. Since her grandson's death, Shinsuke's grandmother hasn't done this anymore. No longer did she come for mass either. Atsumu had not seen her in a year.

Shinsuke struck Atsumu as a benign thing, his posture immaculate, his pulchritude natural, inarguably _there_. He had sharp eyes and a soft smile. Atsumu would have to remind himself that it was rude to stare and let his eyes roam over the crowd, instead fixating on nothing and no one in particular.

Shinsuke had been a man whose presence was comforting. When Atsumu looked at him, he relearned the sensation of an unwavering faith in God, something they shared and something Atsumu held close within himself. He harbored a deep appreciation for the man. When Atsumu prays at night, he prays for the church, and until his death, it's Shinsuke's face that always manifests in his imagination.

The dress shirt is too big on him, yet it doesn't cover enough skin. It was all Shinsuke wore. During his visits, he would stand at a distance, scrutinizing, teasing, seducing Atsumu in the latter's dress shirt, the first three buttons undone, the fabric stopping at his thigh, enough to cover the thing between his legs. He wore nothing beneath, his legs and feet bare. This was how he appeared to haunt Atsumu during his evening pursuits at the cathedral, how he attempted to instill fear and mutual desire in him. And Atsumu feels every bit of the former, because of the other emotions he feels towards Shinsuke, such as the latter.

The demon shakes him in a way that no one else has ever managed. There's a lot of confusion, a lot of skepticism on Atsumu’s part. The unwavering faith in God was ever there, but only because they both knew He would abhor Atsumu for the paths his mind decided to take, worsened because of its place of occurrence. Since Shinsuke appeared to him as a renewed entity, Atsumu began to question why. It was only when Shinsuke spoke tonight that he realized.

Demons are said to be manifestations of fears. Atsumu wonders when his began. This fear of a growing attraction towards Shinsuke, heightened by his passing. It had been tragic; a car accident. Both drivers were killed in the collision, one of them Shinsuke. Atsumu had grieved him as his family did, as the church did. He wished that he could see him once more. And when he did during the funeral, he was not satiated. Emptiness hung over everyone.

Was it the first night he reappeared to him? All skin and ink black horns and wings, and that familiar face that had flooded Atsumu's mind, body and heart with a sense of dread and pleasure, knowing he still existed on earth, anyhow. Was it when Shinsuke teased him for the first time that night, asking in greeting, "Did you miss me?" a grin forming his mouth.

Atsumu had been standing over him, clutching at the silver cross dangling from around his neck down to his ribs in disbelief and shock. He held onto the cross as though holding onto God’s palm, saying _look_. Was it the sweet voice he spoke with that decided Shinsuke is a benign thing to behold? And if that was it, couldn’t it have begun the moment he first spoke to him within these very walls?

Atsumu was slipping further into doubt towards what he had once believed to be his reaction to Shinsuke. Was it all with _ill_ intent that he had thought highly of Shinsuke? Was he, Father Atsumu Miya, physically attracted to Kita Shinsuke?

_God, have mercy on me_ , he begins, before anger surges up within him. Not towards Shinsuke, but himself. Still, he directs it all to the former. "You didn't use to talk this much," he comments, letting himself focus on something else, his words sharp.

But Shinsuke was decided on toying with him. “Aren’t you glad I’m making conversation, instead of spooking you in the dark? I did plan to do that, but, I’m nice with you.” He crosses and uncrosses his legs, and though Atsumu does not look directly at them, he feels guilty for even acknowledging Shinsuke with his eyes.

Atsumu’s good at masking his feelings. He can school his face into indifference, but in these moments, he can’t help but slip.

Shinsuke notices. “You’re red in the face. I take it that’s a quiet ‘yes?’”

"Even if you try to frighten me in the dark, I would know it was you," Atsumu argues.

Shinsuke takes delight in this, clear on his face. "That's right, and it'd be boring, wouldn't it? It's why I come to you every night I can, seeking out your company."

Atsumu is curious now. "Why do you only ever appear to me in the cathedral? What is it about this place that makes it so _fun_ for you?"

There's a moment when Shinsuke doesn't speak, but when he does, it remains with malicious intent. His words come quietly, almost earnestly. "Because God is watching and He can't look away." He clicks his tongue before letting out another laugh, watching Atsumu's eyes widen.

But Atsumu can't be bothered to be angered, not when he's confronting a demon. And he knows what Shinsuke means. This is the house of God, after all.

"How long has it been since you've last been held, Father?" Shinsuke saunters towards him, continuing his nightly seduction and tease.

In Atsumu's mind, he imagines himself leaving, but something about his guest keeps him tethered in place, within the cathedral, something magnetic and greater than him. Atsumu thinks he can put a name to it, but won't. He promised himself he wouldn't break.

"Have you _ever_ been held before?" He asks, and it's this that gets Atsumu. Shinsuke stops to stand behind him now, stirring a great curiosity within Atsumu towards what it would feel like to close the distance between them. The thought makes him swallow.

A sudden weariness fills his bones. He's not sure if it's because of Shinsuke's subtle invitations that his body reacts to it, wanting to succumb to him, or if it's simple weariness towards having to deal with another night of his teases. Either way, it reminds Atsumu too much of a taboo desire he has a strong inkling he bears.

"You should leave." He casts a look to his left and sees Shinsuke's form standing behind him—the curve of his ink black wings, his arm a white blur.

"I think I'd much rather stay. Father."

Atsumu feels like prey. It's infuriating that he can't do anything. If he did, it would go against his morals as a clairvoyant and as a servant of God. Once again, he clings to seeking understanding with the demon. Nothing more, nothing less.

"You're thinking too much." Shinsuke comments, drawing out the truth for them.

But Atsumu has to. He has to think. He has to consider. This is how he'll win against Shinsuke- the moment is cut off when he gets the impression of a hand coming to rest on him.

Shinsuke’s fingers run along his skin through the layers of fabric that cover it, and it takes every bit of Atsumu’s resolve not to shake before him. Shinsuke wraps his arms around Atsumu's frame, coaxing him. He's so _warm_ , Atsumu can't help but think, pressing his eyes closed to the sensation. He has never been held until this moment, he has to stifle a sigh. What scares him is how he might have an idea of its source and he has a feeling it's from relief, as though his body had been a taut string, waiting to be plucked. How is it that a demon can make such a loving gesture? Atsumu thinks, for a second, that this must be how it feels like to be held by God. To have your desire known and accepted, to have it understood and cared for. What a humane delight, one he's not fit to have.

"I wanted this when I was alive. So much that I ached for it." Shinsuke’s words make him go cold, all of it leading back to Atsumu’s inkling of a desire and a suspicion he has had for a while.

It's as though Shinsuke follows his train of thought when he asks, “How often do you think about the sins the church tells you during Confession? Did you ever figure out the man behind the admission of guilt towards being attracted to men?”

Atsumu doesn’t know why he lets Shinsuke hold him (Maybe he wants it. He wants it. He doesn’t. He does), but he makes no move to leave and instead answers him in his arms. “I had an inkling it was you.”

Shinsuke rests his cheek on Atsumu’s back, looking at the distance. “You’re the only man I ever wanted, Father.”

Atsumu’s breath hitches. He is aware he is letting himself be held, but he'll be damned if he were to hold Shinsuke back.

“Do you remember what you told me then?”

“No,” Atsumu says, right after the question, because he's highly attuned to Shinsuke now. But he does, he does remember.

“Liar,” Shinsuke whispers, harshly. His arms tighten around Atsumu, nails digging in, just a little so as not to hurt him but ask for his full attention all the same. “You told me I could be myself, but that I could never be proud. You instructed me to pray the Our Father three times, the Hail Mary two, and the Glory Be one. You told me love is out of our control, but it didn’t mean we had to act on it. But I never was such a good man, Father.” His fingers make their descent on either side of Atsumu’s waist, making Atsumu jerk forward. Shinsuke follows. “I loved you still, coming here. I touched myself, I dreamed.”

It's too much. The night was escalating quickly. They hadn't come this far before, not in the four nights he had spent with a reborn Shinsuke. Atsumu didn’t want another confession, he didn’t want to have to lie to himself, to sin in order for the other to stop sinning. But what can he do when Shinsuke is no longer a man but a demon? Atsumu has to remind himself of what he is dealing with. It’s okay to be cruel. It’s what God would want in this situation.

"I need to leave.” He extricates himself from Shinsuke’s grip, turning to face him. The latter’s expression is an open one, earnest.

“Don't follow me," Atsumu commands, and he means it, looking him in the eye before heading towards the stairs. He will change his attire and he will lock up before he goes to walk to his car, and he will drive home, and he will have a well-deserved rest.

In his quarters in the mezzanine, he takes off his _ferraiolo_ before unbuttoning his _collarino_ , bearing his chest to the cold night breeze mingling with the heat of the candles. He needs to head home so that he can rest his mind and body. The events that occured tonight have left him weary and overwhelmed. In the room is a bed, a table, a chair and a cabinet. On the candelabrum atop the bedside table are five candles that illuminate the room in an orange glow. He stares at it, not so much as mesmerized by the light as he is distracted by his thoughts. The phantom touch of Shinsuke haunts his body. His words had made way too much sense, puzzle pieces falling into place. It is no secret that Shinsuke desires him and that Atsumu is curious about him, in his own way.

“I could stare at your back all day.”

Atsumu whips his head to find Shinsuke standing by the door, arms on either side of him. He is shamelessly, openly staring at Atsumu’s chest now, while the latter tries to regain control of his breathing under his intense gaze.

"I told you not to follow me." Atsumu scolds.

He says these words, yet they are emptied of conviction. He is looking at Shinsuke in the light for the first time tonight and he realizes, albeit belatedly, that there's an ache blooming in his chest. Shinsuke’s thighs are toned, his body bearing the build of a farmer hard at work, as he was back then. This gives Atsumu the impression that all that’s left of him is the person he was. But just how much of him still lives within his body now? And where does God lie within a demon? The very god Shinsuke had loved and worshipped, the very god Atsumu supposedly serves but is betraying by indulging the demon before him.

“Love is choosing.” Shinsuke starts, sauntering towards him. “The kingdom of God is within you because you chose it, and God has swallowed you, and you are one.” He stops before Atsumu now, his eyes shifting between the priest’s and his lips. “Your god is a forgiving god. What are you so afraid of?” The last part uttered in a whisper, his head upturned towards Atsumu.

Hearing those words uttered by Shinsuke makes the blood rush to his head. He feels, strangely, understood, but in all the wrong ways. As though Shinsuke had been listening in on his prayers to God.

He doesn’t know how he had missed the scent of him, but Shinsuke smells strongly of lavender. It is all-consuming, filling Atsumu with a headiness. This is what life smells like, and beauty, always beauty. He is beginning to get a sense that this is it, that he is finally succumbing to desire, to Shinsuke, to Lucifer and straying further away from God. _If only in this moment_ , his mind adds, trying to ease himself of guilt.

The demon presses his hands against his bare chest and curls his fingers. His touch is electric. Atsumu allows themselves to revel in this. His mind is far away and what happens to him is reminiscent of a possession. And perhaps it is, in its own way. Perhaps Shinsuke is possessing him, but Atsumu no longer has it in him to care.

Shinsuke's wings spread open. He ascends on them, tries ro reach Atsumu's lips, but the moment he tries to kiss him, the priest pulls back, exhaling hard into his mouth in shock. They're both open and noisy, their breathing loud, control no longer of the utmost priority. Still, Atsumu tries to hold on, his pathetic attempts made aware to him by his conscience.

_There will be no turning back from this_ , his mind screams, threatens. And in response, he thinks, _I know. I understand. Forgive me_ before he leans into Shinsuke, hands grazing the backs of the demon's thighs. Immediately after a breathy _yes_ tears Shinsuke's lips open, Atsumu grabs his thighs, hauling him up to his waist, the demon's legs crossing at the ankles on Atsumu's back, following his body's command. He turns, leading them to the bed where Shinsuke splays himself on white sheets.

He looks desirable, immaculate. He looks just like the object of Atsumu's desire, the man he had missed for a year. Atsumu unbuttons the last three buttons of Shinsuke's dress shirt and finds a telltale of his pleasure. The scene is lewd, but this is the most quiet Shinsuke has been. He looks almost nervous, and in contrast, Atsumu has never felt more sure.

_You're so beautiful_ , he wants to say, but he doesn't intend to stroke the demon's ego any further, or admit his thoughts aloud in the house of God.

Shinsuke is as good a demon as he was a human being, Atsumu acknowledges, as he leans forward, breath ghosting over Shinsuke's skin. Fear pays a quick visit, grazing his heart, stopping him from pressing kisses onto the latter's skin despite the colossal desire within him. So he lets himself savor the hairbreadth between them and the heat of Shinsuke's body below him.

This can be an exchange of breath and an exchange of touch and it could end there. It could. But no matter how much effort he puts in tampering with his conscience, the kingdom of God presses all its weight onto his heart, and he's already pulling away.

Maybe he imagines it, but it's as though Shinsuke has reverted back to his old self, genuine concern etching his face, so uncharacteristic of the demon he was earlier.

"Father?" he asks.

"I was so close," Atsumu begins, distant. "I couldn't go any further, but I was so close." He pushes himself off the bed while Shinsuke retains his position—thighs apart, legs bent at the knee, feet on the sheets.

There's a hint of a smile forming his lips now, and it's the rudest awakening of it all.

"What have you done to me?" Atsumu pushes out the words like they're enough, like they'll bring him closer to the truth when he has been running from it. Because he knows it's not Shinsuke, but him who had let this happen to himself.

It only takes five dragging seconds before Shinsuke bears the truth for them to examine, for Atsumu to be further horrified by. "You did this," he states, simply. "You," he gets up, rests all his weight on his elbows, grin widening, and it reminds Atsumu of a fox. "Broke."

Atsumu buttons up his _collarino_. He blows out the candles and shuts the door to his quarters. Downstairs, he locks all entrances to the cathedral before getting into his '18 Chevy Impala. In the rearview mirror, he catches sight of ink black wings. He does not look back.

At home, he will pray three Our Fathers, two Hail Marys, and one Glory Be. And he will make a pledge to God not to overstay his welcome at the cathedral anymore. This is a pledge in itself.

**Author's Note:**

> may i have a crumb of kudos/comment? if you're looking forward to more of my content, you can subscribe to my profile here on ao3, or follow me on [twitter (@closingheart)](https://twitter.com/closingheart) for updates. you have just read the first chapter of this fic, & i do hope you come back for more.


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